Images
by amberdowny
Summary: Curt, a man's life is his image.


Disclaimer: Todd Haynes. Not me. sigh The idea of the Wilde/Wild name thing is stolen from TotallyRaven. (but IS in the credits two ways--look for it)

A/N: 'Kay, so the other night muse!Curt and muse!Brian decided to move into the writing side of my brain from the pornographic dream side. (which means that if muse!Remus and muse!Sirius decide to move back into my brain at all, muse!Trapper will have to move in with muse!Hawkeye and muse!BJ. But he's already thinking about it. They rent a weekend place in the pornographic dream side together anyway.) Anyway, Brian decided to ask Curt, "May I ask you a question of a somewhat personal nature?" Curt said okay, and Brian asked his question. But I fell asleep while they were talking, and I forget Brian's original question. I KNOW this isn't it. But the disfigured plot bunny was biting my ankle, and Brian told me to write it. I always do what Brian tells me because Brianyum. ANYway…

"Curt?"

"Mmm?"

"May I ask you a question of a somewhat personal nature?" Brian rolled over to face Curt, a serious look on his face for once.

Curt laughed.

"What's so funny?"

Still grinning, Curt replied, "Do you even have to ask? We just _fucked_. You have more right to ask personal questions than anyone." Brian shrugged. Curt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course."

"Well…" Brian began hesitantly, and Curt immediately started paying a lot more attention. When _Brian fucking Slade_ starts hesitating, you know it's something important. Or extremely unpleasant.

"What?" Curt said urgently.

"After that time…when I first saw you perform…I wanted to know everything about you that I could. So I asked around, searched through old magazines…"

Inwardly, Curt rolled his eyes again. Brian was all about elaboration, never got straight to the point. Ever. During sex, he'd say something like, "Oh, Curt, I believe that due to your ministrations, I'm about to have an orgasm." Okay, that wasn't true. Usually a sharp breath and stiffening muscles were all the warning Curt had. Occasionally an accompanying, "Curt, I--"

But that was the _only_ time Brian got right to the point. Actually, you could argue that he went past the point in his haste to get to it.

Curt started as he realized that Brian had been talking all along. Since he was saying something about someone named Cecil, and Curt had no idea who that was, he assumed that Brian hadn't got to the point yet.

"…and I was told that you um…had to have eighteen months of shock treatment, because your mum found you…well, performing fellatio on your older brother. I wanted to know if…how much of that story was true."

Oh. That was his point. Damn it.

Curt sighed. "I need a cigarette," he muttered. A shot of heroin wouldn't be too bad either. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, reached for his jacket and took the pack of cigarettes and matches from the pocket. He lit one and took a deep drag on it, exhaling the smoke slowly.

"Okay," he said at last. "How much is true?"

Brian nodded wordlessly, watching his lover worriedly.

"All of it."

Brian made a weird movement, as if he was going to touch Curt and then changed his mind. "I'll listen if you want to talk about it."

Curt turned to look at Brian. "Yeah?"

"You seem surprised."

Curt shrugged, put out his cigarette, and lit another one. "No one's ever cared enough to offer." He smoked in silence for a few minutes, until Brian reached up and stole a drag from his cigarette. "Hey!" he protested.

Brian's blew smoke at him in response, then handed back the cigarette.

Curt finished the cigarette, and then lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Brian stared at Curt. He was just about to drift off when Curt spoke.

"He was five years older than me. My brother. His name was Thomas. My mom liked those names--Thomas and Curtis. Tom and Curt. My dad wanted one of us named after him, but mom didn't want to do that. I bet he was glad he didn't name me after him." Curt turned his head and looked at Brian. "The shock treatment was his idea."

Brian didn't know what to say in response, which was odd in itself.

"You know, the rest of the family spells Wild with an 'e', like Oscar Wilde. We're related, somehow. Distantly, I think. I forget. I ran away when I was fifteen, changed the spelling. I partly thought it looked like a better name for a singer, but mostly wanted to distance myself from the family. That was when I first used heroin, when I was fifteen."

Brian still didn't know what to say, but he decided to give Curt the pin he'd stolen from Jack Fairy. Mandy had told him about the pin when she'd seen it, said that Jack had told her it had belonged to Oscar Wilde. Funny, Brian had never heard Jack Fairy say _anything_.

"It started when I was ten, and my brother was fifteen. My dad was never very nice, you know, he'd hit me sometimes because I wasn't what he wanted me to be. Tom came into my room one night after I'd been beaten, and he hugged me and said it'd get better--and offered to teach me to play guitar." Brian gave Curt a surprised look. "Yeah. The only thing he taught me that I wanted to learn. See, he taught me other things too.

Well, he started coming in every night. Hugging turned into innocent kissing turned into not innocent kissing. That was the first thing he taught me, the first thing I didn't want to learn. Then he started touching me, and made me touch him. That was the second thing. Touching became the third thing, hand jobs. Then blowjobs. The fifth thing he taught me was how to have gay sex."

Brian stared at Curt in shock. "How old were you when he…?"

"Twelve. I lost my fucking virginity when I was twelve to my own brother. How sick is that? That's what I thought after I ran away. I used heroin to forget. Or to punish myself. I don't know."

"It wasn't your fault," Brian said to him. "You were too young to know any better--he used you."

"I know." Curt rolled over so his back was to Brian. "Then when I was thirteen, my mom caught me and it was off for shock treatment."

Brian did reach out this time and brushed his fingertips over the back of Curt's neck. He shivered and turned back over. He reached around to the back of Brian's newly blue head and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

"Well," he said, pulling away, "I just spilled my guts. Tell me something no one else knows."

"You already know a great deal more about me than anyone else," Brian replied. "But all right. I legally changed my name in '71 to Brian Slade."

Curt raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? What is it really?"

"Thomas Brian Stoningham Slade," Brian said.

Curt gave him a look. "_Thomas_?"

"I always preferred Brian, ever since I was young. Besides, it looks better on an album cover."

"It does," Curt agreed. "And I've refused to so much as look at anyone named Thomas after I ran away."

Brian stood up suddenly. "Come with me."

"Where are you going?" Curt asked. "Brian?"

"Just come with me," Brian ordered. Curt rolled his eyes, got out of bed and pulled on his pants and shirt. Brian, who had just pulled on pants, grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door, so the shirt remained unbuttoned.

Brian led Curt outside to the shore. "Curt, a man's life is his image. Your image can reflect on the bad times…or on the good times. Hold out your hand."

Curt held out his hand, playing along with Brian's insanity.

Brian dropped something into Curt's hand, but kept it covered with his own so Curt couldn't see. "This belonged to Oscar Wilde, or so I'm told. You should have it." He moved his hand, and Curt saw the pin.

"Does-doesn't this mean a lot to you?" he asked, clearing his throat.

Brian took the pin back, and then pinned it on Curt's shirt. "Yes. But so do you."

Curt looked down at the pin, then back up at Brian.

Then they were kissing. Neither of them knew who had initiated the kiss, and neither of them really cared.


End file.
